


The Tapestry

by Elgen



Category: Richard III - Shakespeare, SHAKESPEARE William - Works
Genre: Alternate Ending, Attempts at Psychology, Court Intrigues, Disturbing Themes, F/M, Gen, Psychology, Uncle/Niece Incest, Written for a prompt/request
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 07:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4470623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elgen/pseuds/Elgen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens, if Richard III returns from the battlefield and intends to proceed with his marital plans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tapestry

 

 _"I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,_  
_And mean to make her queen of England"  
  
\- William Shakespeare, Richard III: Act 4, Scene 4._

 

 

 

The bells were tolling, the sound filling the air, darkening people’s doorsteps, swirling into ears. Many a man would like to close the shutters and muffle the ears to keep it out! But it didn’t, it couldn’t help and it went on and on, the deep vibration of the wedding chime.

Whole land was in a bustle, with people muttering  “unholy”  and  “save us, O Lord, for a righteous man there is no more”. But then, the bridegroom was not a righteous one to begin with, nor was he godly (unless his God was sitting on the throne of bones,  with the lost empty eyes). Some doubted if he was human at all, calling him “foul stigmatic” or “wretched beast” behind his crooked back.  If he heard  that, he didn’t care now for it was the moment of his triumph. The battle was won, a bloody  and ruthless victory adorned with the corpses of his enemy Richmond  and some of his not so loyal courtiers. So much for Buckingham and Stanley.

 In retrospect Richard III, King of England, wasn’t all that furious with them at this moment, he understood what drove those men. Ambitions were something  he could easily relate to. That and betrayal  for the sake of your own gain. “Loyalty binds me” fitted him perfectly, though all those feeble, fussy ones interpreted the motto according to their own conceptions and accused him of being  a dissembler. At times Richard didn’t even know whether to laugh or shake his head in frustration over such naivety. The truth was, he had always been utterly loyal to himself and his nature most and foremost and had taken a great pride in such consistency. Everything else was  replaceable. Alas, few people could appreciate this life approach the way that he did.

Still, it was not the right time for dwelling on such thoughts. One must not linger on his own wedding day after all. Richard gave his kingly promise to the dearest _sister_ Elizabeth that after the victory he would marry her daughter and his niece, virtuous and fair, royal and gracious Elizabeth of York. And today he intended to be true to his word. For  a change.

 

***

The bride was standing motionless in front of the mirror while her ladies were finishing the required preparations. There was no haste, no merry jokes or giggles rang in the room. Only the quiet _frou frou_ of the bridal gown and occasional hushed sobs of attendants. They tried to keep it down for the weal of their mistress ’s soul. Lovely  and pale, with a wreath on her brow and a long veil which enclosed her frame like a shroud, in lavish dress and jewels, Elizabeth of York was gazing at her own reflection without seeing it.

Her mother, Elizabeth Woodville, was there with her, looking agitated and quailed at the same time.  She remembered all too well how she told her daughter about the unspeakable proposal  of her wicked uncle and how Elizabeth stared back at her for a few minutes, before leaving the room in complete silence. When the news came of Richard’s  success on Bosworth, Elizabeth Woodville out of  sheer despair urged her daughter to proclaim herself Queen Regent and raise supporters against  the tyrant. The people of England loved Edward IV, they loved his children, specially his eldest daughter, the sweet Bess. Surely they would stand by her side! Surely even such reckless attempt was better than…than what lied in store for her poor girl! But Bess refused, having no desire to further bleed white the country, tortured by those endless wars. “No one shall die in my name” was her firm answer.

The deprived Queen Dowager remembered then their meeting with the King Usurper after his unfortunate victory, her endless flood of curses at him for retuning alive and defeating Richmond, for murdering  her innocent babes and doing away with  kind Clarence, Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, his own wife Anne, for his hellish deformity and coal-black soul. She threw everything at him, spouting and seething, the red-hot blade of her words being her last resort, while he patiently listened to her with expressionless face before calmly reminding about his proposal and inquiring about her daughter’s answer. With a throbbing want to scratch Richard’s eyes out Elizabeth Woodville informed him that his niece  gave her consent to this marriage.

***

What a day it was!  Lords and ladies all sharply dressed in their finest attires, colorful banners flying everywhere, cathedral arrayed with flowers – such rarity in this time of season and yet here they were, those nectareous gems, blossoming against stony walls, mocking rose-windows with their primal glory!  Winter wedding! But of course, the King needed to wait for the dispensation from His Holiness, and dispensations take time. Especially _such_ dispensations! Was it a profound petition, dripping with honeyed reverent words, which swayed Sanctissime Pater? A benignant concern for the well-being and peace of the English realm? Or a generous sum, which accompanied that petition? It didn’t matter, well, except to some of those guests, scandalized, horrified, curious, shuddering because of a winter chill or their own emotions, but not to the King and not to his bride.  For them it was a closed chapter.

“But the new one looks promising” – thought Richard, looking at the gathered crowds – “they all came to pay their respects, out of fear to displease me or out of perverted interest or boredom or sentimental sympathy and affection for Bess, but they did. And they will behave now. Who will raise a hand against anointed King whose wife is a recognized heiress of the previous one? “ Dear Bess, it was her best dowry! That, and her tantalizing beauty - among other things. Ah, here she comes.  Whispers cut  through the sea of people. Elizabeth of York  stepped in, a graceful figure resembling a ghost. There was no smile on her lips, no colour in her cheeks, they were ivory white as if pinched by the frost, dark circles lay around her eyes. The Pale Rose of York! Had there ever been a bride more pretty and more sorrowful?

Yet she was calm, walking with her head held high, a perfect picture of royal dignity and elegance, so similar to her splendid father! And during the ceremony, even if the Archbishop’s words and King’s vows rang as a knell to her as some thought, she would give no sign of it, being on her best behavior. And while those words were spoken, her half-brother Thomas Grey, Marques of Dorset  was seriously pondering if he actually was going to be sick right there and then. Her sisters and her mother were also well occupied with their thoughts. Cecily of York was praying secretly that Bess would become a new Judith with a dagger under her pillow. Her sister Anne still could not quite comprehend,  why Bess was marrying their own uncle but was afraid  to let it show, making a qualified fool of herself before all those magnificent people around her. Katherine was simply loving her sister’s dress and how the light was playing on the fabric and decided to have precisely the same one for her own wedding someday. And little Bridget, soon to be entrusted to Dartford Priory, was just getting tired.

In the mind's eye of Elizabeth Woodville the images were spinning – of blood-stained sheets and breathless body of her daughter, her open eyes reflecting a black, vapid horror of everything she’d endured thanks to her husband’s appetites. Wouldn’t it be better, more humanly, for Bess to fall asleep on her wedding night, before anything could happen, and never wake up?  Just think of that, her Bessie! Once she had a dream of becoming Queen of France, they called her Madame la Dauphine and she would dance gaily and laugh and sing _Le ray au soleil!_ And now? The uncle and his niece! God, take pity on her! And she, her own mother, allowed this to happen! Thus, the Queen Dowager was stewing in her inner turmoil, but a thin voice at the back of her head was constantly whispering - how Bess would become Queen of England, how Richard had pardoned her son Thomas as a part of their deal, how some of her lands and titles would be restored to her after this wedding and how regal and dazzling she could be once again!

Out of mercy (but he knew none) or out of the latish sense of decency (but he had none) or just out of his own whim, the King kissed Bess’s pallid brow when they were pronounced man and wife. She stole a glance at him, noticed the familiar glitter in his eyes, and quickly cast down hers. But even without looking up again she knew he was still watching her. Two red spots came to her cheeks and vanished.

‘Tis was the time for celebration feast!

***

“I’ve lost three sons to this fiend and now I’m  losing you”   - wailed Elizabeth Woodville before they  took off to cathedral.  
“He won’t kill me, he needs me alive, hush” - Elizabeth of York was talking about herself  with a cool clarity as if about someone else. It was not a  first, nor a second time she soothed her distraught mother with a voice of reason. No one could do it better than her anyway,  and out of two of them one surely needed to remain composed.  
“There are worse things, than death” – her mother went on.  
“I know” – Bess replied evenly.  
These past months she has been constantly surprising herself, ever since that faithful night in August when she decided to marry her murderous uncle.

A candle was burning in her room then, a single light in the dark. To become Queen Regnant and rule in her own right! To command armies like Queen Margaret did! But would it do any good to the country? More violence and deaths? More devastation for the lands? Going against Richard’s troops? She almost could hear him cackling over such idea. What was the cost of those wars for Margaret of Anjou? She lost her husband, and her son, and her crown. Roaming the earth now like a restless soul, spitting out curses and macabre prophecies. With all her strength and courage and ferocity the French She-Wolf was left clawless and toothless in the end, and Elizabeth of York knew full well that she was no She-Wolf. Not even close. She could never do it.

A moth went by, an owl hooted in the distance.  Elizabeth closed her eyes.  
To take the veil and become a praying nun? But what would become of her sisters? Of her mother? They all could go into convent of course, and then what? How would it help a country, if they all hid away from the world and left realm to Richard  to do here as he pleased? Didn’t she as the eldest child of Edward IV have a duty to England?  What would happen to her half-brother Thomas? Living in exile forever, until  King would send assassins to him? Besides, would  it be really such a safe haven? Her own father after all broke the rule of sanctuary once, she was not sure his brother would honour sacred vows if he didn’t want to. Another thought came. Was it also fair to rob her younger sisters of those joys and fortunes of life they could have, by locking all of them up in the nunnery? The proposed union hardly held any happiness for her, but for them? Being at court, with the prospect of making good matches, as the sisters of the Queen. An old vain dream of becoming Queen of France flashed through her mind. Wasn't it a purpose for any princess after all – to sit on the throne one day? If she married King Richard, she would become Queen of England. But it would come with a price.

Elizabeth stood up and went to the window. What a warm night it was .The moon was shining, blood-red. So strange. An owl hooted again, a scent of lime-blossom touched her nostrils or was she just imagining it? She couldn’t tell. Her uncle promised her mother that he would provide for her sisters, return everything to her family, allow her half-brother back home.  How eerie it felt, in the light of that red moon, in this room with a flickering candle.  To marry her own uncle,  wallowed in the blood of his own kin.  Of her own kin. Wouldn’t it be a gravest sin against the Almighty? Or a noble sacrifice? As Queen she would be able to protect her family and be helpful to her country in every way she could.  
“…And lead you to a conqueror's bed he said” her mother’s voice echoed in her memory. He conquered her aunt Anne over the corpse of her first husband. He led Anne to his bed where she could never find the golden dew of sleep, plagued by his timorous dreams. And then he poisoned her as people claimed  - to marry his niece!  A shiver passed through Bess's body in the warmth of the August night. The  Kingmaker’s daughter couldn’t kill the villain, though she tried. Could Elizabeth, The King’s daughter, succeed where her aunt had failed? Not on the battlefield, but  in the still of  conjugal bedchamber, at the table with a drop of certain potion? The vengeance for all his deeds, a single life in exchange for peace and justice. Everybody would support her and forgive her for that, wouldn't they? Then she could rule herself or find a proper husband to share the burden of the rule. Then....then suddenly she thought of Richard, of what was going on in his head when he decided one day, that one life  was worth the price of the crown on his head, and then another life, and another, and another. How did he find excuses for his actions? Maybe he was staring out of the window into the night as well, and then just convinced himself that it all would be justified in the end. This vision made Bess recoil and step back.  
The candle went out and crimson moonlight crept into the room. The shadows were moving, reaching out to her. Elizabeth  clutched her hands to return a sense of reality again.  There were few options, and none of them were good. Between Scylla and Charybdis  what would one  pick? No happy riddance for her in sight, but if she played her cards right there could be a suitable, profitable bargain. The price? Her father paid his own for the crown.  Why should she back out of paying hers? Why should she be all over herself that much? The wife of Richard The Third... That’s settled then. She’d announce her decision to her mother in the morning.

Elizabeth suddenly felt drained and dizzy. Rest.  She needed rest.  And when her head finally touched the pillow, the dreams came, but whether they were timorous or not she didn’t remember.

***

Now that Bess became his bride, she was sure that Richard would appear before her as the ardent wooer. Like he'd appeared before Anne Neville, like he'd  wanted to present himself before her mother. And she was well prepared to knock the King off his perch. Elizabeth of York may have agreed to marry him, but she wouldn't let him insult her with his false courtship and two-tongued confessions of love. As if she could ever believe in his feelings. Enough with such pretence! But when they finally met, her uncle acted impeccably polite with her and nothing more.

It was an official audience, Queen Dowager and Marques of Dorset both attended, King Richard was making a small talk and everything was over rather quickly. Probably the presence of her family members kept him at bay. But then the second meeting happened, and then the third one, face to face this time, without presence of courtiers or kinsmen, and yet nothing changed. He  would speak to her in a level amiable voice  about marriage preparations and canonical procedures, about plans for her coronation in broad terms, not displaying any particular preference or interest in her. Elizabeth would have thought  Richard was utterly bored with her, if not for the occasional cold calculating glint in his unwavering gaze. He seemed then to be reading her, deciphering to the very core. But apart from that Bess thought that he was treating her  like a chore. It significantly cooled her defiant ardour. How would one defy something if there was nothing really to defy? So she unknowingly was replying to him in kind, speaking in platitudes, trying not to stare at his withered arm or hunched back at the same time.  Though even his ugliness went dim in the routine of their conversations."Of all things!" - thought Bess - "of all things..."  and couldn't finish her own thought. She didn't know what to think. His attitude puzzled her, puzzled even more than if he had been on his knees, prophesying eternal adoration for her.

Before meeting his niece after their extravagant betrothal Richard weighed all he knew about his future second wife.  She was beautiful, kind, pious, quiet and docile  -  or so they said."Woe unto you, when all men shall speak well of you! For so did their fathers to the false prophets". Was she really that good? Well, if Bess happened to be so compliant all the better! Would be easy to manage! There is nothing like Griselda.  He knew it for sure for he'd already had a wife like that. His darling Anne, so obedient. Obediently succumbed to his advances, obediently wed him, obediently became his Queen and then obediently died when he needed her to.  Really, he had no reason to grumble. And now his niece....There was a good chance of course that, she'd turn out to be like her annoying mother! Richard was actually   ready to listen to some of the expected lamentations such as "What have you done, you loathsome monster!" or "I rue the day when you were born", but not too often and not for a long time. Since Elizabeth of York  was supposed to be his spouse for a good while in order to secure his throne, constant nagging could become highly irksome.

"So, Bess, let's see what you are really like" - murmured Richard to himself.

Their first meetings turned out extremely satisfying for the King. His bride seemed to be indeed a placid creature, excellently bred, but not spiritless at the same time. He figured out her underlying desire to trade barbs with him and put him in his place (whatever she thought it could be) and found it very amusing. All the more reason to please himself by  perplexing her mind. And she was charming, more charming when he remembered or thought her to be. Even when she was this formal and serious. At the same time she did not seem pretentiously prudish, wasn't whiny or fretful.  Slowly but surely he discovered that there was a strike of resoluteness in  her, though he couldn't understand its limits yet. It was interesting. Time for a next step then.

 

Elizabeth of York was eating slowly. The roasted capon tasted  scrumptious and Spanish wine left a rich fruity flavor on her tongue. Her uncle had invited her to sup with him in his chambers. Alone.  Which likely  meant another night of conventional conversations where she could answer almost mechanically. “She that sups with the devil needs a long spoon "ominously had declared Cecily in the morning, but Elizabeth didn’t share her sister’s feeling right now.  For what? “Whatever he tells people to convince them to do as he wishes, his eloquence must be really exaggerated"  said Bess to herself sullenly. It was almost offending that he didn't even feel compelled to spend on her half of the effort he had spent on others. Irrational silly thought, she knew. But still.  At least everything else was rather pleasant. The food was wonderful, the  room smelled of honey and dried rose petals. A nice cozy  supper - as far as it was possible in this situation at all.  
"Bess?"  
She raised her head, he'd always addressed her with "my lady  Elizabeth" before.  
"Your Grace?"  
"I hope you won't be upset that my most noble lady mother, Duchess of York, won't be present at our wedding?"  
The  haughty Cecily of York, the Proud Cis as they called her. She'd cursed her son before he went to battle and promised to never speak with him again. Richard's spies reported to him that upon hearing of  his victory and Bess's agreement to marry him, his mother spitted out a swearing curse so elaborate, that it could make sailors blush.  And of course she wouldn't approach his wedding within a cannon shot range. If Richard had known how strongly it would irritate his mother, he probably would have attempted to wed his niece earlier.  
"No, Your Grace" - answered Elizabeth. The ceremony already promised to be uneasy, with her mother among the guests and the possibility of her nervous breakdown right there. Adding her stern grandmother to the soup pot would be too much.  
"All right then. I’m afraid Lady Stanley won’t be attending either. "  
Margaret Beaufort, Richmond’s mother – after the demise of her only son and her husband she was busy tearing her hair out. Richard at one point entertained the idea of Lady Stanley not only attending his wedding, but carrying the train of Bess’s coronation gown as well, but gave it up. For all he knew she could start rending her clothes in despair during the whole thing. And that was the sight he definitely would not like to see.  
Bess nodded. She herself had no desire to see Lady Stanley.  
There was a pause.  
" I'm awfully glad Bess you are less prone to dramatic outbursts, unlike you mother" - added Richard with a light smile - "Makes a nice change".  
Now he was looking at her, really looking, without any ceremonial  air about him.  
"Does it? " - Elizabeth was evidently doubtful.  
"Truly! I honestly thought I'd get a new set of women's damnations from you for my collection, but you pleasantly surprised me"  
"Well, if you think for a moment that I forgot what you were or what you'd done..."- Elizabeth began with a sudden lump of rage in her throat, remembering vividly again all his horrendous deeds.  
" I didn't think you had, nor I'm expecting this from you Bess" - he replied calmly -" it doesn’t  matter”.  
“You don’t care?” – Bess’s eyes darkened in high dudgeon  
“Unless, it means that you've changed your mind about your consent, you are perfectly entitled to those opinions”  
“I have changed nothing, Your Grace. I gave my word to become your wife and I’m keeping it. I’m not inclined to promise something and then go back on my word, unlike some”.  
He obviously paid no heed to her innuendo.  
“Good to hear, Bess”.  
The silence fell and Elizabeth decided it was the end of their first informal conversation.  
“By the way, Bess, why did you agree?”

 One minute he didn’t care what she was thinking of him and the next one he was inquiring about her reasons to marry him? What kind of  game was he playing?  
“Why?! I wanted to save my family! I wanted to help my country! I had no choice! I wanted to stop those wars! I wanted to be Queen!” Those exclamations were crowding in her head, pushing each other.  
“It was the best and most reasonable evil out of the others, Your Grace” – she said at last.  
She was not sure what kind of reaction to expect. Probably it sounded degrading to him. But  Richard grinned with delight instead .  
“Finally someone is using wits in this family!”

***

The things began to change after this supper. There still was the presence of formality in their interactions, though mostly due now to ceremonial of the court, rather than to King Richard’s seeming disinterest. Elizabeth’s pastime was also altering. 

Since the beginning of the preparations for the wedding, the court  life slowly resumed its natural course with its gaieties (taking into consideration the personality of the King, of course, and atmosphere he was creating around himself) and Bess found herself engaging in them more and more with every day. It caused her tremendous pangs of guilt. By allowing herself to enjoy  those worldly pleasures, she thought that she was betraying her brothers and others, who’d met their gruesome end at her uncle’s hands. Despite of her decision to accept Richard’s proposal, wouldn’t it be more proper nonetheless for her to behave more discreetly? To be a solemn figure, rapt in contemplation? Her late beloved ones were in her prayers every night, but not each day now she sat alone with a book in her hands or embroidery. She loved hunting and riding, she loved music and would listen to minstrels playing her favorite melodies, she excelled in dancing! Bess reproached herself time and again for indulging herself in those activities, but her very youth, everything that was lusty for life in her protested and hunted its own line.

The movement, the speed, fresh wind against her face, the dancing steps on the floor – how all of it made some things  bright and renewed again, after those long days in sanctuary, when future held nothing but uncertainty and  fear and the feeling of entombment.  Perhaps the future still seemed intimidating for her, but at least she had more possibilities now. Besides Elizabeth saw how happy her sisters were, being there with her at court to keep her company, all rediscovering old joys and finding new little things to be excited about, according to their tastes and ages. They certainly weren’t judging Bess for her small mercies. No one was, not her mother, not her half-brother Tom, not those noble lords and ladies who sympathized with her and admired her spirit and her ability to act worthily no matter what. And surely not Richard. He was likely approving her social court life. She was her own harshest critic, never fully able to forgive herself.

Other things emerged as well , providing some food for her thoughts. Namely the way the King was looking at her now sometimes. From time to time, when her uncle was taking part in hunting or horse riding with her, or watching her dance (he never danced himself), or discussing something with her, she caught his unwinking stare, still calculating as ever, but there seemed to be a different undertone to it. At first Bess assumed that she was mistaking, just seeing things. Wasn’t he reading her before and wasn’t the “book” boring him? But then that conversation and that almost unbashful praise in his voice…These glances… At times things seemed pretty much the same as they used to be and Bess would tell herself  “see, you’re merely working yourself into a state”, but then it would repeat, and with every time it got harder  and  harder for Elizabeth to ignore it.

She was not far from the truth. In fact Richard III vastly  encouraged her pastance  - the devotion of the commoners and courtiers to Bess was a perfect support for his throne now that his niece was to sit next to him on it and he intended to make the best of this devotion, but he suspected it would be unfavourable for him if  she looked too miserable or oppressed in the eyes of the people.  It doesn`t pay, to make a martyr out of her. So the fact that she was capable of being so lively, even in his presence, was definitely good for his rule. Besides, it made her even more beauteous. Richard now often feasted his eyes on her. On the quickness of her body, on the tempting curve of her neck, on her clear eyes which seemed to ignite from within when she was eager to do something, on her amber hair and her creamy-white face with her cheeks going ruddy after her outdoor exertions or when she was out of breath after yet another dance. In these latter days he tried to spend more time with her, partly because it was politically advantageous, partly because he grew to enjoy her company. The girl was treating him with graceful reserve, cautiously, repeatedly trying to have a dig at him, asserting her pride and resolve. Sweet Bess! Perhaps she tried to upset him with that. If she only knew that he, on the contrary,  found it rather  adorable.

“Are you burying yourself in cogitation upon issues of the state, Your Grace? May I distract you from them?"  
“ And good evening to you, my most incomparable lady mother” – sarcastically replied Richard to the Queen Dowager. He always used the most endearing and opulent words for his soon-to-be mother-in-law, knowing how much it infuriated her -  “I was not, I assure you. Actually, I was just thinking how ravishing your daughter was”. Elizabeth Woodville gave a squirm, following his gaze to another side of the hall where Bess was dancing with her sister Cecily and her cousin Margaret in a ring.  
“Must you make things even more abominable than they already are?  
“ Madam,  for a woman who managed to seduce the King of England into marriage, you appear to be too sanctimonious. It doesn’t become you”.  
“Our union was acceptable before God and blessed with love and many children! While you….  
“I think The God can decide Himself what is acceptable to Him or not, without your preachment. As for love, if I had been waiting for love, madam, I would have still been a bachelor! And as for children” – Richard made a horribly serious face – “I promise to try as hard as I can”.  
For a moment it seemed, she would spit right into his face, but before she opened her mouth, he went on:  
“ I must confess I don’t quite understand the purpose of this  conversation or why you’ve approached me? To have a row with me? I think we are past the point of that already”.  
“The matter was business”  
“Then you chose an awfully bad start for this kind of discussion”.  
She knew that he was right and that her hatred for him sometimes beclouded her mind and prevented her from thinking straight. She certainly didn’t intend to talk to him like this tonight, but at times it was really too much for her – seeing that bunch-backed toad, that Cain, in the stolen crown of her husband and son and saying those things about her girl!  
She drew in long breath.  
“Your Grace, I would like to speak with you about a very important and meaningful matter”.  
The Usurper tilted his head in mocking consideration.  
“I’ll closely listen to you, madam. But let’s better withdraw from the public, in case you’ – King Richard looked cajolingly at her– “give utterance to your emotions again”.

 

They adjourned to the gallery, bordered with the hall.  
Each evening was getting colder and fireplaces in palace were blazing almost constantly now, the leaves in the park were falling down from the trees and lying on the ground in big piles, resembling pagan funeral pyres. Once and again, the scent of frost lingered in the air. The winter was coming on its soft paws.  
“Well, Madam?”  
“It concerns my lands and incomes, Your Grace”  
The King raised his eyebrows.  
“Your lands and the incomes from them will be restored to you after the wedding, my dear lady mother. We’ve agreed upon it, haven’t we?”.  
“I’d like to ask you to grant me at least some of them before this event. I can hardly make both ends meet and that’s difficult for a lady of my status. As a Queen Dowager I believe I'm entitled to it.”  
Now Richard looked  slightly disgruntled.  
“Madam, you are well provided from the privy purse, you live at court, the wedding is in January and after it you will get back practically all that you had as adjusted for your  widow's lot, though I personally don’t think you deserve it. I suppose you are capable to wait a couple of months   and tame your insatiable greed until then”.  
This conversation wouldn't jell from the start and now it was positively going to the dogs.  
“Greed? Don't deserve it? I’d like to remind you that I was the rightful Queen of England and then mother of the rightful King, until you with your nefarious plans robbed me of everything, you soultaker!”  
“And I’d like to remind you that I’m the King now and that I’ve showed you enough mercy to listen to your endless complaints. Stop living in the past, madam, tis not practical”.  
“Mercy?!Mercy?!“ -Queen Elizabeth gave a laugh that sounded like a sob – “You call this mercy?”  
“Aye.  Are you locked up in Tower or somewhere else against your will? Or maybe your son Thomas went to the scaffold?  
“ Whose lands you also confiscated and left him almost destitute!”  
“Well, I guess he shouldn’t have joined that Welsh traitor, but then, he lives, I pardoned him, I allowed him to return to court. I think these are very generous conditions, especially since he will also get it all restored to him after his sister joins me in matrimony.”  
“ So you can ruin her life as well?!”  
“I have no intention of doing that. Becoming Queen of England is worth a lot. And I believe Bess understands that better than you do, madam”.  
“To torment girl’s soul because your own is tainted with filth is worth a lot says you?” - Elizabeth Woodville made no mention of body, for she dreaded the reply she might get in return.  
“My soul is not of your concern. As for Bess’s I don’t envision anything of that sort and I don’t want to be responsible for  the coinage of your own brain”- Richard  answered coldly, while thinking to himself that plucking Bess’s soul and sniffing the very essence of it seemed probably too melodramatic, but yet exquisite.  
"If you think that wearing an accursed crown smeared with blood..."  
"My most dearest mother, as far as I remember you yourself had no qualms about sharing the crown with my brother, though that crown had been taken from the head of Henry VI. I don't remember you were overwhelmingly saddened by Henry's death or by the way he'd died. Then you found the crown neither accursed, nor stained with anything, it suited you just fine. As it suited my brother Edward" - Richard smirked- "as a matter of  fact, I don't remember you cared that much for the death of  Edward of Lancaster either."  
Elizabeth Woodville grew pale with remembrance.  
"But to rip through your own kin!"- she tried to object and  her voice cracked.  
"But Henry VI was our kin. So was his son. So was Richard II to Henry VI's grandfather!" - Richard made a feigned helpless gesture - "You see, madam, we are an awfully turbulent family. Didn’t you understand it while lying in my dear brother’s arms? "  
"Hypocrite! Satan reproving sin!" - whispered Queen Elizabeth with disgust.  
Richard chuckled, but there was little mirth in his laugh.  
"Then perhaps, madam, you should have studied the history of our family better, before becoming its part. It's unwise to denounce the devil, while being one of the Devil's Brood."  
For a few blissful moments she was at a loss for words. The King shrugged.  
"Well, I think we are done here. Thank you for wasting my time, if I need to do it again, I'll definitely make use of your services and invite you. Good night." Richard turned his crooked back on her, showing that the conversation was over indeed. Queen Dowager stormed out of the gallery, without any further delay. For her this night ended in disaster.

For King Richard it was another dull predictable escapade. Women! Women and their nerves! How tired he was of their rebukes, snivels, lections. And Queen Elizabeth seemed to have a special talent for this. Was she honesty thinking that giving him sermons would change his character at once or change anything at all? What was she expecting?  That after the nature, Heaven above, Hell below – all of them, one of them, he didn’t care – made his body so distorted, so deformed and misshapen, his being would remain pure as  a winter snow?! He snorted grimly. Twisted mind and twisted feelings for a twisted body. A perfect match. Thinking of match, this obnoxious woman better not spoil his upcoming spousals. He was really looking forward to it right now. And while Richard III was caught up in his thoughts, looking at the autumn park, a light girlish figure quickly moved away in the shadows.

 ***

 The minute Elizabeth saw that her mother was talking with her uncle, she had instant misgivings about that scene. Her mother was the last person to sought for Richard’s company and hardly would talk to him out of her own accord, unless she badly needed something.  And when she saw that they were going to the gallery, the curiosity and anxiety got the best of her. Seizing the moment, when her half-brother was telling some juicy story to the snickering of the lords and delight of the ladies (hopefully Cecily would cover Margaret’s ears), Bess eluded the gathering and followed her mother and the King, luckily unnoticed. Hiding in the gloom of the gallery she caught part of their conversation.  Queen Elizabeth’s request was not  that unexpected, she never missed an opportunity to tell her daughter how that Usurper had divested her of everything, though she never asked Bess to lend her money out of those which Richard had assigned to Bess from the privy purse till the ceremony.  Probably Tom knew something about Queen’s intentions – Bess saw couple of times how he discussed some matters recently with their mother in hushed voices. He also didn’t hesitate already to borrow certain sums of money from his half-sister, which Bess was only too happy to provide out of her kindness. No, it was other parts of that conversation which stroke a certain chord with her.  
Later in her chambers, combing through her red  hair, she was mulling over some reflections of hers. That eavesdropped dialogue sealed a resolution steadily growing within her all those past weeks, ever since that evening when she had supped with Richard.  She knew that it was not enough to simply marry the King to become a Queen, a well thought-out line of behavior to deal with this King was needed as well. Bess truly wanted to establish herself as  a proper and useful Queen, she was born to be her she felt, but Queen does not exist in a vacuum! The loyalty of the court, the love of the people were great assets, but without the working and productive relationships with the King they could still fail her and her aspirations. Especially with _such_ King. Until she could find legs with her future husband, her queenship would be merely a house built on sand. Sure, she could make scenes, which Richard so disliked, like her mother did today, rant and rave and in the end most likely gain nothing. Or she could make ceaseless plaints and sulk - and it would probably make her feel better. For a while. But it wouldn't help her in the long run. No, there were other ways how to behave with Richard without sacrificing her dignity, she was following them already and they were bearing some fruits. But there was still more work to be done. Then, there were her observations.  
She was carefully judging and processing all of them during all these past weeks, before finally drawing the conclusion. The knowledge that the King was admiring her, in his own way, felt weird. She was not sure that it wasn’t another cunning strategy  of her uncle, an attempt of subtle wooing in place of a head-on courtship. But then she trusted her hunches. Even tonight,  when she was dancing, Bess knew that he again was watching her. He was doing it quite often now. She learned to feel his gazes as she was learning to read him.  He talked to her more frequently and those conversations were notably different from those first dry and flat ones. Richard could be a sharp-witted, lively companion when he really wanted to and made efforts and she found that she could be quick to understand what he was going to say sometimes. It was not easy to admit, but she didn’t have this kind of conversations with anyone since the death of her father. Her father! What would he say, if he knew that his own brother was devouring now his own daughter with his eyes, waiting for the moment when he could lead her down the aisle? No! Better not to think! Such thoughts would only weaken her composure.  And God was her witness she needed it. She had plans after all.

Bess was fondly and thoroughly nursing them within her, behind all that court merry making. The plans for the appointments of her own Queen’s household and for her future charity works, for patronage of colleges and arts…But to bring those brainchildren to life she needed the participation of the King. His cooperation or approval or in some cases his non-interference at least. For that there should be a scrap of understanding between them at any rate. The way that he was watching her now…“ I can use it to my own benefit. If I do it wisely, perhaps I’ll be able to manage…to manage him to a certain degree and then manage a lot of other things too ”Bess thought. It wouldn’t be simple, of course, but the Queen must be empiric in confronting reality.“I believe Bess understands that better than you do, madam” he said.  Elizabeth smiled involuntarily. She was a York after all -   branch of the old Plantagenet tree- and they knew how to work their will. Devil’s Brood!   
Another brief memory came, of her father half-jokingly, half- boyishly telling about their old family legend. That Plantagenets had descended from a union between some past Count of Anjou and the daughter of the Devil himself, pouring forever that violent boiling  blood into their veins.   Elizabeth forgot about this familial fable, for she was young and there were so many impressions around and the word then promised her so much. How old was she, when she heard it? Twelve? Eleven? She didn’t remember.  
And then the first Plantagenet King Henry II, the forger of a mighty empire,  her father  was telling with a booming voice, clashed with his own sons when they’d rebelled against him, and his wife, Queen Eleanor, whose excessive beauty could destroy or injure nations, supported her sons against her own husband. One of the brood, Richard with the Heart of Lion,  ended with the crown on his head. Rumour had it he liked to claim that his whole kin "came from the Devil and would return to the Devil". Such a turbulent family they were indeed, from its very roots. “The House of  the Devil on the throne of England!” - laughed her royal father in the end of this tale. And wasn’t his brother now, another Richard, the embodiment of this House, bearing the infernal marks in his appearances as in his deeds? But then, wasn’t she a part of  the same line as well?  
Bess looked in the mirror, in the feeble light strands of her hair  shimmered with gold. The golden-red mane of Plantagenets! Inherited  by generations from Henry II’s father,  Geoffrey of Anjou. The irony of  Cain-coloured  hair  running in the family of  The Devils. Richard I would have appreciated it, perhaps.  And Richard III was appreciating it, probably.

 Bess shook her head. Such peculiar  thoughts she had  in the noon of night. Well, time to sleep, she needed to be refreshed and buoyant tomorrow. Bess lied down on the bed, gazing at the ceiling thoughtfully.  Tomorrow she would try to have her own way.

 

***

 When Elizabeth affably invited Richard to join her in the games of cards, it was hard to tell who was more surprised – Richard or her sister Cecily, who overheard it and was positively gaping for a few seconds.  Richard didn’t care for cards much, but accepted the invitation since this initiative from the girl  intrigued him and gave him opportunity to spend more time in her company .  At the card table Bess was in her glory, she could play all day long, either winning or losing shamelessly large sums of money. Sometimes only the attent intervention of Cecily could stop her “card rage” as her sister called it. Her immersion in cards was such a proverb and a byword in the family, that her father used to call her lovingly “my crooked gambler”  when she was wining and she delighted in this alias.

“To what do I owe the honor, Bess?”  - asked King with a smile.  
“Just some pleasant pastime, Your Grace” – answered Bess politely.  
“The pleasure is all mine, then” – he bowed his head.  
This game could be fun, he decided. Unfortunately for him, he didn’t know of Bess’s experience as he never had taken interest in the preferences of his nieces before.  After she won two rounds, he was quite good-humored, complementing her on her luck and exchanging courtesies. But after she won her fourth one, Richard began to suspect something. Namely, that he was losing his money quickly and the way the things were going, he would be soon left penniless at the card table. Elizabeth  was perfectly happy about the game,  victory over him, even just in cards, felt exhilarating, though  she understood  that  he most likely was a bad loser and it would never do for her to keep on wining and defying her luck.  Thus she let him beat her in the next two rounds.  
“Your turn, Your Grace” – she said reasonably-cheerfully, noticing that it took a proper effect, for he looked pleased.  
“Still I think I need to be specially careful and assiduous, Bess, and keep my mind from wondering or I’ll be skinned at this very table in a blink of an eye ”– chuckled Richard, shuffling the cards.  
“Are you getting distracted Your Grace?”  
“The idle prattling may be dangerous, when you are facing such a skilled player” .  
This was the perfect moment.  
"Then, perhaps, we should talk about more serious matters?" - Elizabeth suggested innocently.  
"Perhaps. I intended to confirm to you the appointments for your future household tonight. That's monotonous enough."  
He began to particularize all those who were to serve her as the Queen as decided by him. Mostly the family members of his supporters, in particular Howards and Percies. Cecily would become her lady-in-waiting, so would Anne and her other sisters, except for Bridget, as soon as they 'd turn 12. But her former attendants, who served her when she  still was a Princess, were missing from the list. As were former members of her mother's household. The King probably wasn't yet  inclined to trust implicitly those who had been loyal to his brother and his family. Elizabeth was going to change that. Meanwhile he won another two rounds.  
"Well, Bess. It seems we have a draw."  
"But isn't it wonderful, You Grace?"  
"Wonderful?"  
"The spoils can be shared".  
Richard smiled.  
"Indeed. Sharing can be beneficent - in victory, in games and...in marriage.  
Bess immediately seized on it.  
" _A propos,_ Your Grace, wouldn't  it be wonderful as well if some of my former attendants shared some of the positions in my future household? I got accustomed to them so and I'm sure they would help me  to adjust promptly to my new status. I miss some of them dearly" - she tried to sound as if this idea had only just come to her, caused by his words, and that it were pure sentiments.  
"Really? Who exactly do you mean?"  
Bess named her long-prepared list, saying  it in the way as if the names were entering her head randomly. She had chosen it shrewdly, without putting there candidates,  who would surely  trigger a refusal.  
Richard was listening to her attentively and, when she finally stopped, was looking at her even more so without saying anything. Bess did her best to pretend that it wasn't such a great deal to her.  
"Very well, Bess. I'll think about it and tell you tomorrow".  
"Thank you, Your Grace".  
"No Bess, I thank you for this lovely game. 'Tis was quite stimulating. "  
"We may  repeat it sometime, Your Grace, if you will".  
"Oh I will. Though next time I'll have to be more mindful if I want to win".  
"And you'll also need to bring more money, just in case"- Bess just couldn't resist. Risky! But she couldn't.  
Richard paused for a second and then hooted with laughter and  Elizabeth felt that  her lips were forming a smile of her own. Everything went almost perfectly tonight and she was quite hopeful for tomorrow.  
And while she was imagining this tomorrow, Richard looked round at her again, at her radiant eyes, her lips, her hair and thought with a sudden,  acute rapacity which almost bewildered him "And this is to be mine! Mine".

The next day she was waiting in the chamber he used as his sanctum sanctorum, as he referred to it sometimes with a humorous undertone. The servant asked her to wait, the King was caught delayed by Catesby and Ratcliffe in the throne room. The Cat and the Rat! The servant reassured her that the King would come soon, but the  time waxed on  and  he wouldn't come. Bess grew bored and started to wonder impatiently about the room. Casting a glance at his writing-desk, she notices some papers lying "face down". Richard almost never kept his documents on the table and when he did, he always turned them over so it would be hard to read at once what were in them.  Without having any scruple Bess quickly  grabbed those papers  and passed over them. It were the lists of her future household's members. The King'd made several  corrections and notes with his own hand. He included those people, who Elizabeth'd asked him to  include.  Bess got overflowed with a feeling of triumph. He had listened to her! Somebody's steps were heard outside. Bess  instantaneously put down those papers back, rushed to the chair and pretended to examine the tapestries on the wall, one where  Eve was handing an apple to Adam, and the other with scenes from Apocalypse from the Book of Revelation by Saint John the Divine, a struggle between good and evil, overcrowding with angels, beasts and demons.  
When the King entered, she got up and curtseyed.  
"Ah, Bess I must apologize for this delay.  I've lost all sense of time".  
"It's no problem at all, Your Grace".  
"But you must have been so bored here, waiting, there is no excuse for me" - he said debonairly.  
"No, Your Grace, I was admiring those tapestries, they are beautiful".  
"French. I've also ordered new French and Flemish ones for your chambers."  
"Thank you, Your Grace".  
"Well then, let's get down to business".  
He sat down to his table, took the papers and announced her the changes he'd made. Elizabeth didn't even try very hard to sound glad or depict gratefulness in return, she was  indeed very happy to hear these not-quite-already-news.  
"I'm glad it pleases you, Bess".  
"Exceedingly, Your Grace".  
"Is there anything else you'd like to ask of me?"  
"No, Your Grace".  
Not today, she thought. Small steps, going by small steps.  
"Then I'm afraid I have to bid you good bye for now. I have some work to do".  
"Certainly Your Grace. Thank you once again" - she curtseyed again and moved for the door.  
"Ah, and Bess...."- he added matter-of-factly. She stopped and  looked at him.  
"Next time, please, put the papers back as they were".  
Bess's heart sank. Richard was gazing at her absolutely prosily, only an impish spark flashed in his eyes.  
The idea to deny anything was dropped in an instant. He knew, obviously, he knew.  
"I,I....disordered them?"  
"No, actually you put them down in the proper order, but not exactly  like they'd lied on the table. These are small details, of course. But sometimes, the small details make all the difference".  
The Devil lurks in the details. Damn it!  
"Yes ,indeed" whispered Bess, not knowing what to do with oneself.  
"Just bear in mind for the future. Next time it may cause some real problems"  
“Next time I’ll be more attentive” -  Bess reeled off and stopped short.  
Richard stood up,  rounded the table and came to her. Looked into her eyes and murmured tauntingly:  
“You are quite a gambler, Bess “.  
“Well…aren’t  you?” she retorted.  
He didn’t answer, though he inclined his head, as if agreeing with her question. She had some nerve this girl, this ... future wife of his.  
His hand touched her wrist, pressing fingers to it, tracing the flesh of her arm.  
“Go, Bess”.

Elizabeth, without further adieu, left the room.  She barely restrained herself till she reached her chambers. There, she leaned against the doors. She was slightly shuddering within, but at the same time she wanted to laugh. He had reckoned her up  (partly). But she’d achieved her goal. Or had she? Wouldn’t he change his mind now? No! Her intuition was telling her “no”. He didn’t seem angered. Or did he?  Did she ruin everything? Caught nosing about in the King’s study! Well done, Bess!  She covered her mouth with her palm . Well, one way or another, she would soon find out the outcome of her actions. The urge appeared, to go out, immediately, to breathe in some fresh crispy air! It was so stuffy! Wasn’t there a hunt planned for today?  Tom had been saying something about it yesterday, or the day before yesterday. She would go! And she would plan her next moves! If you fail to plan, you plan to fail! And only when her ladies began to help her change into the hunting gown, she realized that she had not flinched from the King’s touch.

 ***

 Elizabeth’s intuition didn’t lie though for Richard didn’t change his mind about the appointments.  When she announced the news, rather proudly, to her mother , the Queen Dowager  met them in her own fashion. She was convinced the Usurper had done it to seem as benevolent ruler and she was quite disappointed, that many of the Woodville clan or some of her  former protégé weren’t included into Bess’s household.  
“Why didn’t you consult with me, before picking those people? You could have chosen better and helped us more. Your poor aunt, Catherine, is still not allowed to appear at court!”  
The widowed Duchess of Buckingham, her mother’s sister, was still estranged after her husband’s fall. Bess was pretty sure, that the King  would have none of the Woodvilles back in full force and deliberately excluded the majority of those who were too heavily associated with  her mother and her queenship. She intended to take care of her many relatives and help them restore some of their fortunes, she did, but all in due time, without upsetting the balance of forces at court.  That already caused the damage once. She would not repeat the past mistakes.  
“It was just an instant idea, mother, the words fitly spoken, it all happened rather suddenly” – Bess answered inexplicitly. She didn’t want to hurt her, so she didn’t tell her that she wouldn’t even have thought of consulting with her in the first place.  Bess was going to make her own decisions and the idea that someone would meddle in her Queen’s affairs…No!  If she really felt she needed somebody’s advice, then she’d ask for it.  But until then-no!  
“ That gargoyle will hold us in a leash, Bess!”  
“Bessie had no choice in the matter, you shouldn’t be too harsh to her, mother” -  added Tom, the privy to this conversation – “she has already done so much.  It is unjustly to expect more from her or ask her to deal with that Hog ! You know what he is like“.  
“Oh I know! The best way to deal with this thing would be to put a stake through his heart and drag him into sunlight” – Queen Elizabeth exclaimed acidly.  
“Mother please, keep your voice down, the walls have ears” – pleaded Elizabeth of York. When her mother flied into a passion, she _flied_ into passion.  
“Fortunately, he is more mortal than that, mother” – Tom snickered.  
“Tom, please, not you too!”  
“Forgive me Bess, it is just whenever I remember that you…and he…” – Tom turned away, barely containing his disgust.  
“Let’s not talk about this, shall we?” – Bess suggested softly. And this topic was dropped.

Richard didn’t keep her in the dark for long.  The consequences of this little incident in his study were his now occasional banter towards her and his even more increased attention.  He actually started to converse with her more on internal political matters related to her Queen functions, which sat very well with Bess for it gave her more room to test her cherished ideas. Really, always relying on the “jolly accident” in their interactions would have been too problematic. The King now lent her some of his books on the subjects interesting to her and she would draw inspiration from some of them to polish her plans.  
For Richard it was sort of a thrill to watch this dainty girl honing her skills and wits at him. Her inclination to ambitiousness was now evident to him more than ever, but it lacked her maternal rapaciousness, and felt strangely familiar, strangely kindered. She was definitely more Plantagenet, than Woodville. For Elizabeth it was a challenge to walk this fine line and evolve, finding her limitations, probing the extent to which it was possible to handle him and pursue her goals.  Their dealings reminded at times a ball of yarn where they were pulling each other’s strings and watching how it would tingle through another. She would treat him with capricious grace at times, feeling satisfied that it could get to him, he would once in a while tease her when she was beginning to pride herself too much or lightly brush his fingertips against her neck or arms as if by chance and she wouldn't rebuke him. Thus it went on - the constant learning of inscriptions in the parchment of another's soul. 

 Yet that shifting in their intercourse was subtle and to the outsiders  - pretty much unnoticeable. Her family and courtiers saw only a maid who was so remarkably and princely composed and dignified, despite that  dreadful sacrifice she had made! But this situation suited Bess.  She wasn’t telling anyone why. Even with Cecily she didn’t share her inner machinations. They were too private, only hers to design and develop. Maybe in time she’d tell her if everything worked out. As for now….  
The potency of manipulation was intoxicating! Whether it was a warm and sweet adoration of the crowds on the streets or  the gallant regard of the nobility – she could drink it with full lips, bend it to her own whim,  but none should know of it!  Let them love her or pity her, seeing whatever they wished to see in her, she would  give them what they wanted, and would use their emotions and for the welfare of this realm she would be a good Queen for them. And there was the King...Richard would have to rely on her popularity-  he wanted to benefit from it, but it was the best leverage  she could have over him as well. Too presumptuous? Maybe. Maybe not. But she would never confess to a soul this newly discovered infatuation with power!  At least not now. Some things were better to remain secret. And she certainly wouldn’t confess to anyone, even to herself in full measure, that she felt now some ignoble, privy, curious delight that the King paid that much attention to her and how. No, she wouldn’t confess because...she wouldn't.

 "I think the new buildings should be added to  the College, Your Grace".  
"As I understand there have been already some  innovations in the past years, but some funding won't hurt"  
"For a start. After coronation I'd like to make a large endowment in my name."  
"You know that I yield a ready consent ".  
"Then, we could see about those buildings".  
"At some future day, Bess".  
"But not at too distant one" - she pedaled this line half-jestingly, but with determination.  
Richard smirked. Truly she could be obstinate as fate.  
They were in his chambers again, going  through details of Bess's planned patronage over The Queen's College of St Margaret and St Bernard. She was looking through related documents, making notes right in them, arguing with him on some points in her individual manner.  
"It’s getting late, Bess. We could  continue tomorrow."  
"I don't want to lose time nor my train of thought, Your Grace. Besides, I'm not tired".  
"But you've been going through those numbers for hours".  
"Well, I'd have made a quicker work off it, my lord, if someone had given me those papers a bit earlier."  
"Earlier?"  
"Or just had left them on the table unattended " - she added with a tranquil face and an arch look. The little minx.  
"All right. We'll go on then. But you should refresh yourself. Here, have some wine".  
Richard poured the incarnadine liquid and passed her a starry, ruby-coloured glass. Their hands touched briefly, her skin smooth and cool against  his calloused  and rough one. She had looked at him over the rim of her  glass and thanked him quickly. They carried on, speaking through the matters, periodically slowing down. She would fall into her thoughts over some pages, while he observed her frowning knit brows, her lips soundlessly moving at times, so calm and serious. Yet in this persistent, collected girl he also sensed a pent up  warmth, a  hidden fervour and his fingers twitched, as if wavering from the many-colored yarns some new tapestry, known only to him.

 ***

They discussed their affairs until the early hours, so the servant, who had long fallen asleep behind the doors, couldn't understand if it was still yesterday or already today when he entered the study by authority of the King. At parting Richard bade her a good morning with an obvious irony, saying she needed to rest - finally (with a special accent on finally). Whether he would rest or not she couldn't tell - people said he barely slept, either because he was not human as  some claimed, or because he had terrible nightmares  caused by the spirits of his victims. Or he simply didn't need sleep that much.  
But when Bess returned to her chambers she herself didn't feel like sleeping. She was agitated, fidgety. Overtired, yes, perhaps that was the feeling. She should get rid of it, otherwise she wouldn't get a wink of sleep. And hardly it would be acceptable if she nodded off during the day or passed out right away in public. At the possible images  she spluttered with laughter. Without calling her ladies Bess bundled up, went downstairs and then to the small inner garden of the palace. Sharp air filled her lungs,  that would do the trick. Everything around was still in auroral, violet haze. The trees stood bare, only on one of them some stubborn  withered leaves were valiantly clinging to the branches.  But they didn't have a chance, it was already December and the fall was inevitable.  Bess stood under this tree. Less than a month till her wedding day. So soon and so long. The frost began to nibble on her skin. The last leaves whispered something above. So simple they seemed after those fine woven ones on those tapestries in the King's chambers and yet so natural. The first costume of Eve before the leaves....A  blush suffused her cheeks - this frost must be really getting to her!  Better to return. And after that morning stroll Bess fell asleep in a blink.

Christmas festivities were meant to be spectacular, though, understandably, of more low-profile because of the upcoming wedding in January and the future coronation. Cecily, Anne and Katherine were looking forward for those festivities with a joyful hope for sweets and presents, while Elizabeth was keeping an eye on some of the preparations. It was her very own special pleasance to throw a festival for her sisters and her family like in the days of old. After all those wedding celebrations were going to be something else entirely.  Her mother was less eager, never forgetting what was coming after, constantly bemoaning  the bane of her life, though at times she acted perfectly normal. Bess really wanted to distract Elizabeth Woodville from her brooding and did all she could. Tom was also behaving more strangely lately –some bouts of  bursting excitement  mingled with periods of complete  aloofness. Poor Tom, it was probably  a way for him to cope with all the pains and woes of those past months and reconcile with reality.  So she was specially attentive and kind to him as well, lending him more money without a second thought, the moment he asked her, and generally trying to cheer him up. He was spending quite a lot lately, she thought, for several times when Bess called on him or expected him to join her in the court activities he was late, vaguely mentioning some business discussions with his steward. Bess didn’t really wanted to see her only remaining half-brother turning himself into a walking spendthrift, but  she hoped  that gradually it’d stop when everything settled down. He needed his distractions for now. With all the support she was showing her family, to some cynical observer it could have seemed that it were her relatives who were marrying Richard, and not her. But she wasn’t complaining, not one bit.

 

"The royal progress  will last till May".  
"You decided to prolong it, Your Grace?"  
"Aye, the longer the people there will be able to see their new Queen - the better".  
After her coronation in March, Richard intended to travel North with her - North was a well established Neville's domain and King's widowhood and subsequent planned remarriage caused there some strong discontent. Presenting the new Queen in flesh would help to ease those tensions. Richard was sure, that Bess would win them over. She had a talent for this.  Elizabeth was on the same page with him on this Northern campaign, but also pushed for a progress later in summer to South, especially to those parts where Woodvilles had been most influential.  All those whose allegiance was under question and who could falter must accept  this rule, and Bess was now committed to mend and knit any discords.  It was her duty after all.  
“Very well, I have some ideas for this progress, my lord”.  
“For instance?”  
“You will be the first to know in due course”.  
Richard  gave a dramatic sigh.  
“Ah, women and their secrets”.  
“But everyone has them, Your Grace!”  
He looked attentively at her. They were horse riding side by side while their train had fallen slightly behind.   
“Indeed. Yet there're secrets, and then there're secrets, Bess”.  
“Mine are perfectly harmless, Your Grace”.  
He narrowed his lids and smiled.  
“We shall see”.  
“I think we need to return, Your Grace”  
“Impatient to plan your secret plans, eh Bess?”  
“Not at all. I have  a game of cards with my lady mother, Cecily and Tom tonight. I’ve told you the other day. I don’t want to be late.”  
“You’ve, yes. I don’t have to attend it, do I?”  
“Not tonight, Your Grace”  
“Oh, thanks God. You’ll have some new victims.”  
Elizabeth put on a semblance of anger, but her eyes glistened with merriment.  
“It doesn’t mean you are immune in future, Your Grace”.  
Richard peered at her, but said nothing, though she caught a glimpse of smirk on his lips.  
It started snowing.

 

The game was so much fun! Her mother and brother were lively and talkative this evening, Cecily was telling some latest court gossips, also hinting at her new suitors (Cecily was perfectly convinced she was a heart stealer and that somebody was falling in love with  her almost on a daily basis) and Tom was tenderly poking fun at her for that.  
They were so carried  away by this light  pastime, that didn’t notice it was rather deep into the night.  
“Cecy, bless my soul, soon the whole realm will be smitten by the dart of love for you!”  
“You are just being jealous that’s all! Besides you’ve lost me this round, so don’t try to sweet-talk to me it won’t work, I’ll win the next one”.  
“Or maybe I’m  just blinded by your fatal charms, dear sister!”  
“Mother!”  
“Tom, please, stop mocking your sister”  
The three of them giggled while Elizabeth Woodville was shaking her head in pretended disapproval.  
“Sometimes I just can’t with you…”- she began and it was at this instant that the doors flew open, making them all jump.  The servant  of Marques of Dorset  was standing there, disheveled, with his clothes torn in several places, blood dripping on the floor, his hand clutching his head as if it was going  to fall off.  For a few seconds there was  dead silence.  Then Tom sprang to his feet, kicking his chair aside.   He managed to catch  his servant when he started to sink to the floor.  
“Master….sorry…work…didn’t…” – he hissed through his clenched teeth.  
“Oh my God” – whispered Cecily – “he needs help”.  
“No” -  Tom quickly looked at shocked Cecily and hasty added – “I’ll take care of him myself. Some drunken brawl probably. Mother please, take Cecy and Bess away”.  
Cecily nodded as if in trance and made a step towards Queen Dowager , but Bess was standing still. She noticed the absolute horror on the Tom’s face, her mother ‘s expression –her eyes wide as if the eyes of an owl, her face pale as death. A queer feeling  appeared in the pit of her stomach. Something was wrong, and not only this broken men lying on the floor.  
Elizabeth Woodville made a sign to follow her but Bes said slowly: “I’ll stay  and help Tom”.  
“But Bess…”  
“I don’t need it, Bess, really”.  
“I said I’m staying and helping Tom”- Bess repeated crisply. She didn’t miss the haunted look which passed between her mother and Tom, nor  the air of helplessness which seemed to down on her half-brother like a cloud. Ordering around Cecily was not the same as ordering around the future Queen. Elizabeth Woodville left with her sister, while Elizabeth kneeled down near Tom and this poor man.  
"We need to bind up his wounds, and then send for  physician".  
Tom made an inarticulate sound.  
"I need  water and some cloth, find some for me please".  
While Tom went away to the next chamber, looking for the required things, Bess decided not to linger, tore away a piece of her own sleeve  and tried to apply it as a bandage.   
"I'm so sorry" - the man rasped, slipping in and out of consciousness – “He…entrapped me…I…he”  
“Shhh, please don’t talk, it won’t be good for you”.  
“I..we... failed you…”.  
“Don’t say anything".  
“He fell down…He’d know…know…”  
Bess pulled a strand of hair back from his sweating forehead. Where was Tom with this water?  
“He’d know…always…that Devil’d know!”  
Bess’s heart skipped at the forebodement.  
“What do you mean?”  
“K…King…he’d know”.  
“What has it to do with him?” she asked, but the man passed out.  
Tom returned with a newer and some rags. Elizabeth took them mechanically and began to treat the wound.  
“Tom” – she said, without raising her eyes, “what is happening?”  
“Bess, please, it’s nothing, perhaps….”  
She looked at him, with a look so piercing, he had never seen the look like this from her before.  
“Don’t lie to me Tom” she said calmly.  
Had she  been nervous, surprised, scared, it would have been so much easier for Tom to brush it aside, to make something up, to lie….But this  unshaken icy composure of hers was frightening him even more, than this whole disaster.  
“Bess…”  
“It  is about The King, isn’t it?”  
Tom nodded.  
“Your man, what was he going to do?”  
“Talk. Just arrange…. some things with some….men of Crookback’s close attendants” .  
“Arrange what?” – Bess asked though she had a feeling she could guess the answer.  Tom couldn’t even bare to look into her face it seemed.  
“His murder“– Tom half-whispered.  
Bess didn’t  bat an eye, she waited for him to go on.  
“My man was supposed to buy them over, they were meeting tonight with their representative to finish the details. But something went wrong”.  
“You don’t say” .  
“Bess, please…”  
“How long has it been going on?”  
“Bess…”  
“How long?”  
“Over a month”.  
"A month...." - repeated Bess.  
"Yes. I....I couldn't take any action at once, after he....he allowed me to be at court. But I couldn't wait  any longer Bess. I couldn't. I had to make it in time - before this  appalling wedding".  
"The wedding...."  
"I couldn't stand it. The  mere idea of you marrying THAT. Good Lord Almighty, I couldn't Bess.  Don't you understand?!" - Tom exclaimed.  
"I do" - she responded.  
"He took everything from us. Everything. And then this unholy  bloody bastard turned to you.  So many times I was ready to plunge a sword  through his rotten skull just for ... I saw on several occasions... If only you knew how he looked at you at times."  
Bess  didn't  start to dissuade Tom from thinking that she didn't know it. Poor Tom. She knew it darn well.  
"I wanted to save  you from it, all of it. The Crookback deserved it! More than anybody else in this world".  
Bess gave a mental nod and then added: " And so you've gone behind my back".  
Tom shook his head.  
"I wanted to leave you out of this. You forbade me then to act in your name.  You wouldn't have known! So if I had succeeded,  you wouldn't have been spattered in any way. The burden would have been mine and mine alone ".  
"But you didn't succeed" - said Bess, gazing at the shallow breathing man on the floor. Tom swallowed hard and began to talk quickly, heatedly.  
"Crookback distrusts everybody except few around him, but  there must be people in his household, close to his circle, who hated him as well. Bound to be. After all he's done and what he's been. I only needed to find them and make a deal with them through mediator. I thought I've been careful. I thought  it was working. But  they were so greedy. The scoundrels  not only wanted money  for getting this world rid of this toad, they wanted it big. I was running out of time, I was ready to accept their demands. Tonight they were supposed to finally seal the deal on the amount of their reward.  If I only knew what happened tonight between them, perhaps I could...."  
"He said that the other had fallen down".  
"Maybe, if he killed him...."  
"Then they would follow a hot scent and won't calm down until they find the murderer of  someone from the King's household" - Bess noted reasonably.  
"And he came here" - Tom mumbled looking with  disdain at his servant - "somebody could have seen him coming here".  
"And if the other man wasn't killed, he would tell anyway" - Bess went on.  
Heavy silence fell over the room. It was a mess, a lamentable mess through and through.  
"We need to move him. Somewhere. Hence with him!" - Tom said.  
"He can't be moved too far without the peril to his life".  
"On the other hand, nobody would be able to interrogate him then" - Tom gave a hum.  
Bess didn't reply. Within less than an hour from a joyful family game of cards  they transited to the attempts to escape the failed regicide plan and do away with the witness.   
"Must be a mundane everyday life at court " - Bess suddenly thought with onslaught of cynicism. Thank God, Cecily didn't hear and see it all. The later her sister would be touched by the grisly reality, the better. She already had too much of it. As for her mother....Her mother. She remembered again her mother's reaction this evening, her constant shadowy whispering  with Tom for the past few weeks, their strange behaviour at times. Bess made little of it then. Over a month Tom  said, it had been going over a month.  
"Our mother knew all along" - it wasn't a question, it  was a statement.  
Tom closed his eyes for a moment.  
"She did".  
In Bess's mind the pieces were forming a complete mosaic now. It stroke her  between wind and water.  
"Our mother tried to ask the King to restore some of her former lands to her and he refused."  
Tom didn't comment it.  
"You said they'd asked you a good deal of money".  
"You know I didn't have it  then. Not that much. And neither  had our mother. So she tried....the income from those could have been used....for my purposes".  
"But King refused".  
"You've been borrowing money from me. Heaps of money".  
"It was for me personally. I...."  
"All of it?"  
Tom looked at her almost pleadingly.  
"Bess..."  
"All of it?" - she repeated, although it was already perfectly clear for her, by simply  seeing his face.  
"I was short of time, Bess. I didn't...."  
"Yes you didn't. You merely plotted behind my back with our mother to murder the King, while using money from me to fulfill this plan. Now one of your accomplice is bleeding to death in your chambers after a fight with one of the King's men and your plan will be likely soon exposed if it hasn't been already" - she was almost surprised how bored she sounded, saying it all as if to a child.  
They kept quiet for a while. What else could be said? Just like this  all of their futures had been likely ruined by him.  
"Let's move him to the next room at least" - Tom said finally. He carried his unconscious servant himself though not without struggle. Bess helped him arranged poor man on the improvised bed, then turned around and headed for the door. Tom could kill him , dispose of the body and run or he could leave him be just like that and run, or he could stay and do nothing - in any case nothing of this would really help or solve anything.  
"Bess" - her half-brother called to her. She halted.  
"I wanted to help you".  
"I know. But you didn't".  
Judging by the sound he gave a sob.  
"Bess, forgive me. Please forgive me".  
She didn't say anything and she didn't turn around, just left the chambers. She didn't have either  strength or time for this.

 Bess walked slowly, everything around her was blurred as if for the drowned, who saw what was going on above him, through an opaque water, dense, rippling. The colours fainted.  Just when she found at last solid ground beneath her feet, when she got  a clear vision of her future, a sense of purpose and direction, a balance and continuity everything she'd worked  upon was  shattered!  By her own half-brother and mother! All her efforts, all her aspirations, everything she tried to achieve practically was laying in ruins before her now (or soon would be lying, it's a matter of time). She tried in vain. Bess squeezed her temples. Richard would know - if he hadn't found out already. Her mother would be sent away and locked up in some hole - if not worse. Her half-brother, her only remaining brother, would be executed. If he was lucky, he could escape and spend the rest of his life in exile, in eternal terror for his life. She'd never see him again. It was not like she really wished to see her mother or Tom right now, but in future? She didn't want to lose what was left of her family, not anymore.

" What have you done, both of you, what have you done" tumbled in her head.

As for her? Richard distrusted everybody except few around him indeed, but lately he started to trust her or at least set himself on path to trust her. He would still marry her of course, or else his  kingdom would stand on brittle glass, but he'd never trust her now. Not after she'd lent money to her hapless brother and he tried to use it in his plot against the King. It wasn't even a secret that Tom was borrowing from her. She would never convince Richard that she had no idea what her brother was up to or how he intended to use those money. Never. Their working relationships, any of their relationships they built or could have built in future, would be marred forever from now on, she wouldn't be able to look after the future of her sisters like she wanted to, her  actions as the Queen would be heavily scrutinized and she would hardly be able to do anything she planned to do in her own way, he wouldn't let her for he would think she had plotted against him as well. No hope, just a descent  to Avernus for the rest of her life. "Tom you idiot, you foolish idiot" she said to herself crossly.  She could partly understand Tom and her mother, she really could,  their sense of desperation and loss, their hatred and why Tom came up with this half-baked dim-witted  rash plan of his. People often do stupid things in such state and those past months, ever since her father's death, things had been beastly for them. And probably in their own way they had some good intentions  for her indeed.  But she couldn't help feeling excruciating annoyance and contempt with both of them at the same. They betrayed her, their own kinswoman, their future Queen -  they'd schemed in secret from her and now they'd framed her up. Not for once apparently  they thought about what kind of compromises she'd made with oneself or how it was for her or what for she had been doing all of this!  They cared for her and at the same time they didn't care for her decisions and for what she was like in deed and not in name. And certainly they didn't think over how it could end for Cecily, Anne, Katherine, Bridget, for the whole realm. Otherwise they wouldn't....they wouldn't have acted so reckless. 

What could she do? Now, that the whole picture had been confused to the deadly point. What  could she do?  Just sit and wait for inevitable, hiding herself in the dusk of the dark rooms?  The morning would bring the day of reckoning. It wasn't her fault, but she would be paying dreadfully for the mistake of the others, and not only she. No, no, no! Whatever tomorrow would bring, this night hadn't ended yet. A true Plantagenet never goes out without a fight. Elizabeth of York looked straight ahead, and hastened away. She was going to the King.

 The servant stared at her as if she was mad.  
“You’d like to see the King, at this hour?”  
“Aye.”  
“But, but, my lady….”  
“Is he asleep?”  
“No, he is in his study, but I don’t think…”  
“Very well then” – said Bess and passed right by him. He didn’t dare to stop her or didn’t come up with an idea how exactly to do it. Perhaps, the mere thought of her coming to the King so late at night was too shocking by itself.  
There was no sound of commotion or noise on her way here and it seemed quiet here as well. Bess couldn’t tell l if it was a good sign or not.  
The King indeed was in his sanctorum. With Catsby. Discussing something in subdued voices.  When she entered, both seemed sincerely surprised.  
“Bess?”  
“I need to speak with you, Your Grace” she glanced at Catsby and added meaningfully “Alone”.  
Catsby looked questioningly at Richard and he, after  a couple of seconds, dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Catsby bowed to him, then to her and took his leave, though his somewhat lewd expression didn’t escape from Elizabeth. Still, no time for this nonsense.  
The King was gazing at her now with raised brows.  
“So Bess, what’s the urgency in the flower of the night?”  
“Forgive me for disturbing you, Your Grace, but I must tell you this”.  
“I’m listening”  
“One of your men has been attacked tonight”.  
Richard never moved a muscle.  
“Oh that. That I know of, Bess. Unfortunate incident I must say. And apparently our court is a snake pit of gossips if it reached your lovely ears so quickly. But don’t you worry, the matter is being taken care of as we speak”.  
That was precisely what Bess was afraid of, so she went on:  
“I didn’t learn it from the rumours, Your Grace. I know it because I know who is behind this attack.”  
King cocked his head.  
“Really? Now that’s interesting. Please tell me then”  
“There is an assassination plot against you, Your Grace. Your man was making arrangements with conspirators tonight, they were supposed to buy him off and were negotiating the price. I don’t know what went wrong between them”.  
Richard was looking at her….rather strangely. What was he thinking?  She had no clue right now. His only answer was his leisurely clasped hands.  
“Probably they didn’t agree on the price. It’s all rather sad though”  - he noted  thoughtfully and leaned back - “Why, thank you Bess for telling me this. I am greatly obliged to you.”  
“You are welcome, Your Grace.”  
“And you know who those conspirators are?”  
“Aye.”  
“Marvelous, simply marvelous. So?”  
“Forgive me, Your Grace. But if I may I’d like to ask you for a favour first?”  
“A favour? Indeed? Well, since you are so dutiful to report me all of this, very well, tell me – what do you want?”  
“Could you promise me to grant my request?”  
“Ah, we’re having a qui pro quo moment. I should have known” – he smirked – “Must be really important matter to you then”.  
“Both are, Your Grace”.  
He took the measure of her from head to toes. Bess waited, trying not to give herself away.  
“Intriguing. And what kind of request will it be?”  
Bess gulped, but held herself together.  
“I can not tell you, my lord. Not before you’ll promise me to grant it”.  
Richard kept gazing at her.  
“Playing an all-or-nothing game, Bess?”  
“It is not a game, Your Grace, believe me. I don’t have luxury for it”.  
For a several moments silence ensued. But Bess never depressed her eyes from his.  
“Very well, Bess” – he said finally  - “I promise you to grant your request. Now tell me, who is the main plotter?”  
Elizabeth took  a deep breath:  
“My half-brother Marques of Dorset with a help from my mother the Queen Dowager”.  
The King straightened up in his chair.  
"You are saying that your half-brother and your mother  tried to murder me?"  
"Aye".  
"And you are basically squealing on them?"  
"Basically, Your Grace".  
"Lord Almighty, that's the best night I've ever had. For  now, at least" - he shrieked with gloating laughter and stroke his hands together as if applauding her.  
"Oh, my dear Bess. You've gladdened me".  
"My request, if you will, Your Grace" - Elizabeth reminded him patiently.  
"I will Bess, of course I will. What is it?"  
"My request is to spare both Tom and my mother".  
Glee seemed to freeze on Richard's face.  
"Come again?  You want me to forgive those guilty of high treason?"  
"Exactly, Your Grace".  
Richard was on his feet in an instant.  
"Then you must mistake me for a lunatic if you think that I'd allow those two vipers exist near me. Why in the Hell's name you think I'll do such a thing?!"  
Bess didn't notice that she had put her hands up to her breast, didn't know how pale she had turned, how widened her eyes had become by alarm.  
"Because you promised, Your Grace" - she said firmly, mastering herself - "you've just promised me".  
"Oh, I knew I should have found out the context" - he almost barked at her, walking around his table and standing now with his back against it - "whatever trick this is, you are pushing your luck too far this time".  
"This is not a trick, it has never been a trick and you must know it".  
"Really, what was the meaning of your coming here and telling me on your dear kinsfolk then?"  
"I wanted to save them from their own stupidity and I didn't want to see all my aspirations end in smoke because of them" - she was practically imitating his tone in anger.  
"Ah, so I must close my eyes at the things  those insufferable Woodvilles attempted to cause-again-but let them go because one of them has aspirations?"  
"Plantagenet. I, Elizabeth Plantagenet, have these aspirations and you don’t need to close your eyes, Your Grace. Just leave them, leave them to me”.  
“To you?”  
“Aye, I’ll look after them and I’ll make sure they’ll never make another attempt like this or anything similar to it. And you won’t have to deal with a disastrous scandal on your hands in the beginning of your second marriage”. There were plenty enough already for his short rule.  
Richard snorted cruelly.  
“But how can you be sure, Elizabeth Plantagenet, that you’ll be able to do this? After both of them tried to carry out this little plan of theirs without telling you? Or maybe you knew all along, hm?”  
“I knew nothing, until this night, Your Grace. They never told me a thing and Tom was using the money I’d lent him out of my good will, deceiving me. As soon as I found out I went right to you. I’m sure I won’t let this happen again for I’ll be on my guard  from now. Be sure of that”.  
“Forever not trusting your relatives fully, Bess?  Forever keeping an eye on them? Can you imagine the strain?”  
“I can, Your Grace,  and I’m ready for that. After all, nobody said that being Queen would be easy”.  
There was  a ghost of  a knowing smile on his lips. Then he turned his head away.  
“This is still not a simple request, Bess. I need to think it over”  
“No” – she seized both of his hands, looking into his eyes which did not waver from hers– “no, I need the reply now. I am not going away till you answer me ”.  
“It will be dawn soon, Bess, surely  you don’t mean to stand here  like this till then”.  
“If I have to, I’ll stand here till our wedding day, Richard, but I won’t move until you keep your word!” – Bess exclaimed resolutely.  
Richard writhed his hands free, cupped her face and stared at her with a ravenous, ironical, rapt look.  
“Oh, I’m afraid it will be too much for me, my dear heart. Here, you get me cornered”.  
“Is that a yes or a no?”  
Richard’s grin could cut the stone into pieces.  
“That’s  a yes, Bess. Have it your way! I’ll let them live and I’ll let them be free. They won’t be banned from court, I assume you wouldn't wish that, but they’d better keep out of my way. Half of the lands of your idiotic brother will be confiscated to the crown, he’ll get only a portion of them after your coronation – enough to sustain his useless existence. “  
“And my mother?”  
“Her lands will be cut as well. They need to learn to live more modestly and pay for “having fun” their own way. Keep  both of your eyes on them then, they’ re your burden now, you’ve let yourself in for this trouble, but Bess – if anything of this sort, if  even a shadow of this sort appears , if I’ll ever have a suspicion about them, they are going down at my fingertips and you won’t  even try to plead with me for them, for it will be in vain. Do you understand and accept this, Bess?”  
“I do” – was her firm answer – “then we are decided?”  
“Then we are decided” – he confirmed, letting go of her face.  
Just like this, it was over. Was it winning? A standstill? Whatever it was she knew she did her best.  
As if reading her thoughts Richard gave her a searching look and emphasized with approval: “You know you turned out to be quiet a good bargainer, Bess. A little bit too impetuous, but you can work with that. And you have a great sense of scene, I give you that.”  
“You were enjoying it?”  Why wasn’t she surprised? Not really.  
“Well, not exactly the part with a plot to kill me, thought it has never been really dangerous from the start. But everything else - greatly”  
Bess felt  like she had just  run slap into the wall.  
“From…the start?” – she repeated.  
“Of course, Bess. Did you think that I could miss my two dear in-laws messing around under my nose like this? They were pretty predictable actually, I was sure they’d get up to something like that. Sooner or later. “  
“All this time?”  
“Aye. Your half-brother obviously thought he was having brain waves. Too bad he forgot he needed actual brains for that”.  
“And your man?”  
“He will be fine, I guess, he was well prepared for tonight.”  
“But if something has gone wrong tonight, how would you..?”  
“ Not of great importance, Bess. I’d still have other opportunities and combinations. It was your brother who was running out of time”.  
He even knew the reason behind Tom’s actions, though probably it wasn’t that hard to find out since he found out the rest.  No wonder it was such a malevolent joy for him – to follow the plot, pretending not to know a thing, reveling in the ignorance of her half-brother and her mother, always remembering that he had them under his thumb.  And watching her, being  backstabbed by that clumsy plan of her family and then  rolling up to him, eager to tell him the important information (he already long  had knowledge of) in exchange for the  salvation of her relatives, faking his anger and  amusing himself at her expense. What a show!  
"I probably should go, Your Grace. “  
“Oh, now you are going?”  
“Aye. The matter is settled. Besides, it appears, you didn't need this visit from me, since you were well aware of the situation, it was for nought, though I do hope it was of some use to you " - she said slowly, feeling how her blood began to boil in her veins.  But she helped her loved ones, achieved her purpose.  
"Of course it was not for nought, Bess. If you hadn't come here, I wouldn't have the opportunity to relish your passionate eloquence, for example" - Richard smiled maddeningly genuinely.  
That was too much. She was no puppet,  her life - not a tragifarce to entertain him. The stress of the last  hours, of the last months lashed out in her and she reacted accordingly, before she could stop herself.  
"You! You...know what?! Go....go to blazes, you!" And all she heard in reply was his laughter, trills of laughter, peals of it. She attempted to smash her fist against his chest, but he caught it and kissed her clenched fingers. She tried to wrest it from his grasp, but he  was still holding her.  
"Hush, Bess. Don't be vexed with me. Not for that. "  
"So you could continue to enjoy the spectacle?"  
"No, Bess. So I could explain to you. With both of those wretched plotters everything was quite clear-cut to me from the beginning.  With you it was another story. I needed to know for sure where you'd stand in those circumstances. Now I know and you can’t imagine how grateful I'm to you for that. So you see,  it was not for nought".  
He was testing her! Her and her loyalties!  She was still giving him a gimlet gaze, flaring up inside, but at the same time this approach seemed pretty reasonable and practical to her, she had to admit it, though with effort. He used this turned up opportunity to check (in his own way) if he could trust her in future in the most crucial matters and for better or worse, she had passed his test. Wasn’t it a part of her goal as well to set him back on track to confide in her? She had succeeded then. So had he. Mutual benefit.  
“I understand your point, Your Grace” – she observed, trying to calm herself – “though hardly it was a  laughing matter”.  
Richard pulled the most apologetic look he could muster .  
“For that forgive me, Bess. I couldn’t regain self-possession, the emotions overcame me, but I promise never to do this again”.  
That wasn’t actually a lie from his part. Her gust of rage was so charmingly touching and bold and his relief that she had acted so smartly in that situation - so strong, that he really couldn’t suppress his gladness, which professed itself rather exultantly. For many reasons he didn’t want to imagine the alternative had she acted differently tonight.  
“We shall see about that” –Bess noted with good grace – “as for now, I expect you to keep your recent one”.  
“I shall, don’t you worry. A promise is a promise, Bess”.  
“We shall see. Now, please excuse me, I’d like to go and settle some things”.  
“Of course” – Richard nodded sagely.  
He didn’t  make a move, though when she turned around to leave the chambers, she felt his hand against her waist, his breath on her hair.  
“You are indeed quite a gambler, Bess” – he softly breathed.  
Everyone was playing games in the end. He was playing his, she was playing hers, but fortunately their games were at least able to meet half-ways.  She briefly touched his hand in return with her fingertips, and felt a brush of his lips on her temple. Then she departed.  
“So this is how the proper deal with the Devil is made” –Bess fancied with a mixture  of satisfaction and loss, while she was heading  to the Tom’s chambers – “actually, come to think of it, not that’s hard. Not when you are part of the Devil’s kin anyway”.

 

 ***

 Tom didn’t run anywhere. He was sitting at the table, where they’d played merrily just hours before, the tossed cards still lying where they left them. It seemed her half-brother had aged  badly in this interval of time. He gave  a jolt when Bess entered.  
“How is he?” – she asked.  
“I sent for physician, right after you left, he tried  to help him, but he didn’t make it through the dawn.”- his voice trembled.  
“Usually at dawn I come in  dreams” – that line from a chilly song her ladies once sang, trying to scare one another for laughs. Death often came at the hours of dawn or before it to take the sick and the wounded on her silent wings. Poor man, the victim of human ambitions and zero sum games.  
“If he had any family, make sure to provide for them”.  
“I would. Bess, I…”  
“Send for our lady mother. I need to talk with both of you”.  
When her mother arrived, Bess got down straight to business. Her tale was a fine example of curtness, understatement and misrepresentation.  
The King found out about  the plot and was outraged, she was  “called on the carpet”, suspected and accused, managed to plead her innocence and impetrated forgiveness for both of them as the King agreed reluctantly to let them be because of  unwillingness to have such  scandal on the eve of his wedding to his political disadvantage , he also let them to remain at court, but they were all treading on thin ice now, one wrong move and it’d be the end for them all, Tom’s and her mother’s lands would be only restored in half for punishment, and Tom would get no money from her from now on.  
“You almost doomed us all. I hope that since we had such a narrow escape, you wouldn’t attempt to do anything like this ever again” – finished Bess.  
Both of them were all but crushed by her revelations, but Bess didn’t try to belittle their sense of fear and guilt. It was necessary to let it sink in them so deep that they would never scheme behind her back!   
Tom began to mumble apologies and promises again, while her mother was on the brink of tears.  
“He lies, he always lies! This butcher only is biding his time and then he’ll make away with us.”  
“I don’t think so. He doesn’t need it right now”.  
“Oh my girl, you are naïve, if you really believe his false words“– her mother sobbed.  
“Perhaps, I’m naïve, for I never thought my mother or my brother would hide such things from me” – answered Bess quietly.  
Elizabeth Woodville helplessly grabbed her by the hand.  
“I’ve always meant well to you, Elizabeth! Always!  I meant it for the best! I wanted to take care of you!”  
“I know, mother and  I’m thankful to you for all the good you’ve done for me, but I’m able to take care of myself now and as the Queen of England I'll be the one who takes care of you or of Tom from now on. And you won't fail me,  of course” said Bess firmly looking into her mother's eyes.  
Elizabeth Woodville was confused for a moment - the words of her daughter were rightful and kind but the steeliness  in her  voice seemed unusual, foreign.  
“I won't fail you, Bess, I promise I'll never fail you  like that. If only....He is simply indulging you, creating an illusion to beguile you into having empty hopes. My dear girl, please forgive me, but I'm afraid he will take his brutal nature on you now and....."  
"Don't worry. Things would come round. You know I'm pretty sure..." - she added with a very strange smile -"... we could come to  some sort of understanding with him". In all her  many attempts afterwards to explain that strange smile on Bess's lips Elizabeth Woodville never could succeed - until she decided to finally settle on the simple exhaustion by the recent events as the most plausible and easy explanation.  
Bess left her mother and her brother to themselves, after Tom had sworn to never ever be such a fool again and her mother had confirmed her promise. For a while they were both tamed. That was good for a start. Of course there might  be some troubles with them in future, but she would be on the qui vive. She would be ready and she wouldn't let some things happen. Not a chance.  Queen must be always vigilant. Always. And always ready to protract her claws when needed.  
Thus, she walked away, content and rather peaceful now, with these thoughts floating in her head, rounding off her past.

 

Bess slightly exaggerated in the end , she did give Tom a very generous sum of money - for his servant's funeral. It was  the last time he got money from her. All  his  and her mother's finances were now de-facto under Bess's control. Tedious for want of habit, but necessary.  
The Christmas festivities on the other hand were going as planned and were especially enjoyed by her sisters as she hoped. With uncharacteristic tact both her half-brother and her mother were acting humbler than the dust and did their best to keep out of Richard's sight which perfectly suited him and his bride.Bess  allowed herself to let go and  be carefree  and have fun, she deserved it after all - for the first time in months she was really easy in her mind. Her wedding was in two weeks, then it would be time for nerves.  
She also decided to pay a visit to her grandmother, Duchess of York. Bess felt it would be proper to visit this grand matriarch of the York family during holytide and bring her gifts, besides it would be a Christian thing to do - her grandmother hardly had many visitors lately.   Richard was well aware of Bess's initiative but didn't say a thing against it.  
The Proud Cis was as stern in her authoritativeness as ever but greeted her kindly and it was clear the old lady was surprised and touched by this visit and by the presents Bess brought with her.  
They circled a bit around general topics - the weather, each other's health,  how Bess's sisters had grown up, her mother and brother, Christmas celebrations, before finally stumbling over unavoidable subject - upcoming wedding ceremony.  
"You are very brave, child, by impeding this load onto yourself. I wish you could be ridden of it" - sighed old woman.  
"This was my conscious choice, my lady. I don't regret it".  
Duchess shook her head.  
"I wish you won't have to, I wish you won't, though I can't imagine how else it could be for you with him. Lord, forgive me, I can't wish you joy in this marriage, child."  
"Don't. I'll be fine, my lady. Besides I’m not prepared to be bored by this marriage at all".  
Her grandmother gave her inquiring look, then patted her on the shoulder. Such a nice, plump little thing her granddaughter was,  yet so dutiful and so selfless, so nobly enduring her position, even trying to make fun of her situation it seemed, poor lamb.  
“What you are doing for your family and for your country, child, is admirable and I hope they will always cherish that. If all of them deserve it is another matter.”  
"Well, perhaps I’m doing it for myself as well” – Bess noted gently.  
She had never seen Duchess of York so puzzled  and dumbfounded before in her life,  a fascinating sight, and decided not to push it any further. No reason to worry and upset old lady. Judging by her grandmother’s face she already got the glimpse – there was no point in showing it in full what her granddaughter was like, and  how the things stood between her granddaughter and her son now. Ironical wasn’t it? They were indeed of the same breed. Who could have thought?!  
Duchess Cecily wisely didn’t return to the subject again, switching to some trifle things and Bess played along. When they were parting,  her grandmother with austere yet sad look kissed her forehead with her dry lips, bidding her farewell with such words “I hope you will be a good Queen, child. I’ll be praying for you”.  
“I promise, I will “  was Bess’s reply.  
Not a single time was Richard’s name mentioned in their conversation.

 ***

 

The night before her wedding Bess didn’t sleep. She sat on her bed in complete darkness, praying  - until her tongue swelled in her mouth and her brain reeled under the weight of her thoughts. Praying for the dead and the living, for serenity and determination, for everything at once and nothing in particular, until her own words morphed into the obscure soft sounds, which none can put a name to in the darkness.

In his chambers  the King Richard III kept awake as well , looking out of the window, his hands bridged in front of him. His mind wasn’t wandering , his thoughts were sharp and clear, set on one particular thing. He waited for tomorrow.

In the morning Bess was pale, but perfectly calm.  The main task was to carry through this day without any incidents, while making sure her mother or some of her relatives wouldn’t make a botch during the ceremony. And also not to fall asleep sometime during the ceremony or the feast, she definitely should have got some slumber last night. With the colourful visions of dozing bride, Bess called her ladies to help her change into her wedding dress.

 

The bridal feast turned out to be smooth. Whatever guests felt or thought about all of this, rich foods and  wine flowing in streams well occupied most of their attentions - a proof that stomach sometimes was mightier than brain or heart!  It wasn't exactly cheerful, but still merry enough.  
Some cynics - and there were quite some of them - after a couple of goblets even began to exchange raunchy jokes about  the wedding night, though cautiously. Some were just eagerly following the newly-weds with their prying eyes, after all one did not often come up against an experience of this nature. Unfortunately, the newly married couple didn't give them exactly much to bate  their curiosity.  As for other guests - they were entertaining themselves, giving heed more to the fattened pheasants and swans on the tables, rather than to King and his new wife.  
The young Queen  barely touched any food or drinks, having just a light bite here and there, but she was amiable  and cordial with everyone, nodding with a smile occasionally or sustaining a conversation perfectly. Any tiredness she felt  vanished as if by magic. When music started to play and pairs began to dance, mixing wine and blood in their veins, the Queen danced as well, airily and effortlessly, with some of the highest rank courtiers. "She is making a brave fight, that young maid"  thought some of the guests.  
Her family was behaving all-in-all. True that her-half brother was slurping liquors as if he tried to drink himself to death, but at least he was unaggressive. Her mother looked like she was hit by a dusty sack, but thankfully  she didn't talk much and maintained her dignity. It were Cecily and Anne who were having a time of their lives, enjoying frytour blaunched and losenges fryes, with Cecily dancing a lot  and Anne watching her sisters and all those pretty ladies and lords. Katherine and Bridget were too little to take part in the feast and were sent to their beds before it started with a sacred promise of those sweets from the banquet for them  the next morning .  
The King was eating and drinking as usual, he had never  been a glutton,  conversing  rather pleasantly with his closest courtiers,  constantly darting glances at Bess. He seemed to be in perfect countenance, though if one, who knew him really well, looked closer and more attentively this observer would have noticed a deep smugness in his eyes and something else, some inkling of anticipation. But few knew him that well, and even if his most loyal courtiers noticed anything, they didn't show it. Elizabeth of York  knew. She knew and noticed everything, and those two red spots  tried to blossom on her pale cheeks again, as if two roses slowly cutting  their way out of the snow.

 Most of the guests began to break their ranks and head  to  their chambers for the rest of the night, after the King announced that he and his wife were  retiring to theirs! Hardly anyone could describe the bouquet of many facial expressions of all present after that announcement, it was safe to say they were rather diverse.

In their own chambers Bess  stood  in the center, twirling a ring on her finger. Under Richard's orders the  ritual bedding ceremony was cut, archbishop gave his blessing to the newly-weds and left the rooms immediately along with the  distinguished  guests, which had been allowed to accompany the couple, then Richard himself closed the doors. That caused a lot of hustle and speculation at court though many did agree that while it was a  blatant violation of the  required custom, perhaps it would be kinder to the young Queen this way, for having witnesses in her case could have been too much. On the other hand, they were leaving her alone with her husband too early. But  no one was able (or really wished) to contradict the King on this and the King just didn't bother with their opinions, his rule was pretty much unconventional by this moment anyway.  
"Bess..."  
She looked at him.  
"I saw you didn't eat or drink much tonight".  
"I didn't  really want  to..."  
"And now?"  
"No. Though sooth to say - yes, a little".  
Richard chuckled, took  a goblet full of wine and some of  flaune of almayne from the small table and handed it all to Bess .  
"I knew I did the right thing when I ordered to bring those here. Come, Bess, taste some".  
She took the silvery sip, the wine had a freezing taste of the snow on her lips, then scorched her throat, the spicy morsel tickled her tongue.  
"Thank you. Do you....do you  want to break this bread with me?"  
He slowly smiled.  
"With pleasure".

 In his chamber the bloody drunk Thomas Grey, Marques of Dorset  passed out before reaching his bed. His drugged mind fortunately didn't supply him any dreams. In their rooms  Cecily of York was praying for her sister Elizabeth, Anne was quietly humming the melody of the dance she particularly liked, nodding off, while Katherine and Bridget were long asleep, dreaming about the promised sweetmeats. In her chamber  Elizabeth Woodville was  feverishly pacing the floor, unable to sit down, let alone to sleep. The hours dragged, but she couldn't stop herself, dreading the morning and longing for it. She thought the night would never end.

But it did.

***

The palace stirred before the first glimpse of dawn. Servants began their daily routine, wedding  celebrations or not, the dullness of their duties remained the same. At least some of them were rewarded with those nice big pints of ale the day before thanks to their good lords’ permissions. To the health of a new Queen, God bless her soul! Poor lassie. She was white as a moon during the whole feast they say.  
But what’s done was done, there was nothing they could do to help, except praying  heartily for her and maybe whetting their whistles with  another shot in her honour.

The York sisters were all dreaming quietly and by the first light of morn the slumber had finally got hold of their worn-out mother, while in bed in her chambers Bess was slowly opening her eyes .

That strange, intoxicating feeling between sleep and awake enveloped her, the languish of the body which seemed both familiar and foreign at the same time. She was breathing slow and deep, her lips slightly parted, her cheeks flushed as if burned by the sun. The hearth in the room has already long faded, but the young Queen didn't feel any chill. What she did feel was a gaze on her, and turned her head around. Richard was looking closely at the soft rise and fall of her bosom, his nostrils flaring slightly, inhaling her, as if with every breath and every move fragrance was coming from her body, from her hair and her skin, like a fragrance from an opening flower. A smile touched his lips, sated and curiously caressing. Some things could never be idle! And even if they were, he would not hate them. Not now. Delicious night! He lightly brushed her cheek with his fingertips, moving away the tangled golden red curls, bathing in the heady warmth. So rich and full was the colour of her lips, her cheeks, her eyes, her strawberry hair, that to him Bess seemed on fire!  
She sighed, a gentle, serene sound and after a brief hesitation returned Richard her smile.  
  
The dawn has come.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Sanctissime Pater_ \- latin for Most Holy Father/Pope  
>  _Judith_ \- heroine from deuterocanonical "Book of Judith". She tricked Assyrian general Holofernes, who was about to destroy Judith's home, the city of Bethulia, and who also had a passionate desire for her. Judith killed Holofernes in his sleep, by decapitating him.  
>  _Le ray au soleil!_ \- French medieval song  
>  _Griselda_ \- a figure in certain folklores, who became a synonym for patient and obedient woman/wife  
>  _Devil's Brood_ \- the legend about Plantagenets being the offsprings of the Devil indeed existed, it was mostly attributed to Henry II, his wife, Eleanor of Aquitaine, and their children as an explanation of the violent disputes and the infamous temper  
>  _Frytour Blaunched_ \- type of medieval sweets: honey covered fritters stuffed with gingered almonds  
>  _Losenges Fryes_ \- type of medieval sweets: diamond shaped fried dough  
>  _Flaune of almayne_ \- type of medieval sweets: spiced creamy apple pie
> 
> This work was written for a prompt/request by Sally "What if Richard III from the play didn't die and married his niece". I hope you liked it Sally!  
> In the process I had to give Elizabeth of York some agenda since in the play she had none.  
> The work is based mostly on the play, but has influences (homage) from all kinds of different literature and even songs.


End file.
